


Diary Entries

by Fmannerly



Series: Slice of Pervert [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Diary/Journal, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Mild S&M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Slavery, Slice of Life, everyone is bi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:43:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fmannerly/pseuds/Fmannerly
Summary: A slave girl writes a few entries in her diary reflecting on various topics in her life. Like her mistress' behavior, Dorm Life, and the hell that is maintaining healthy relationships with less than healthy people.





	1. Rebecca, Reflections on Life, Dorm Life

Dear Diary, It’s me Honesty (that always feels really weird to write, maybe I should just drop it, you are just a composition book after all.)

My mistress Rebecca and I are extremely different people despite having once been childhood friends. One of her friends in school even compared us to Yin and Yang. I thought it kind of funny at the time, but I guess it’s true, down to her olivey Jewish American Princessness, versus my stereotypical Maroon appearance.

It’s odd thinking about it, how opposite we are. I mean sure, she is the emancipated slave turned daddy’s little girl and swim team star, and I’m her introverted captive Maroon companion. We really do seem to compliment each other, and to a degree highlight our differences in that way. I give her the space she needs to be a free spirit, and help her when she can’t do anything for herself because of her condition, and she holds me every time I have an attack.

Actually thinking about it, neither Becky, or her Mother has ever asked why I occasionally wake up screaming, and why I just shut down when I hear helicopters or gunfire. I don’t doubt that her mother knows. I just know that my mistress has never once asked me why it happens in the ten years she has owned me. But I don’t make an issue of her moments of weakness either, I just know I’m there to help her when she needs me.

Friend or not, she’s always been remarkably lenient with me. I mean yeah, I might have to occasionally spread my legs to satisfy her voyeuristic urges (to say nothing of her other urges…) but at the same time, I have an actual high school diploma because of her and her illness, and I don’t have any scars on my back.

I remember a few months after I had been given to her I ran away, dragging my four year old sister with me, and tried to go join another maroon band in the swamps, thinking that I could take care of my sister as well as myself. Which in retrospect was a terrible idea, and actually kind of stupid even for an eight year old. Especially for one who had not a month before begged and pleaded with her mistress’ parents to buy her younger sister as well, because she didn’t want to be separated from the only family she had had left, and succeeded.

When we were caught, Becky came with her fathers to pick us up from the Police Station. The first words out of her mouth when she saw me were “Did you run away because of me?” To which I couldn’t give any response, aside from crying and trying to console her. After all, she couldn’t have known what I had heard, and shouldn’t ever be exposed to the sights I had seen.

After that, she managed to harangue her parents into not seriously punishing me, only making me go to counseling for my drapetomania, making me sleep with fetters on until I wasn’t an escape risk, and not getting dessert.

Of course, her lenience towards me isn’t without reason. I don’t generally start any trouble, escape attempt and a particularly nasty shouting match with my ungrateful little sister aside. Sure, I grumble about how I have to do everything on Shabbat and occasionally scold my mistress in place of her mother when she does something stupid, but that’s been a fact of life for us for a decade.

❧

  Occasionally, I do wonder what my life would have been like if I’d been able to go with my Aunt. Either having never been found huddled in a chicken coop because of my sister’s panicked screaming, or being emancipated later on, and adopted by her. She is the only other survivor of our village, and happened to have become fairly well connected before she found us again. But that happens when you pretty much have become an action movie hero, and with your future husband, saved the Governor from a plot to force her out of power by a conspiracy of resort developers.

When she did find us, she offered a not inconsiderable sum for myself and my sister, but my mistress’ parents didn’t want to sell us, out of concern for my Mistress and her little brother, who had gotten attached to us. Of course, that lead to threats of a lawsuit, because my sister and I had been enslaved in a legally questionable situation. Eventually, the two parties settled. My mistress would still own me, and her fathers would own my sister, but we would be educated by my aunt in the ways of our people, and my Aunt would have the right of first refusal over our sale, and any children my sister or I have. Plus no-one would end up getting possibly executed for kidnapping.

Given that it meant having very wealthy and politically powerful friends, my mistress’ fathers agreed, and more or less used it as a summer camp for my mistress and her brother as well. Which made perfect sense, but well, led to a certain degree of awkwardness, particularly given that my mistress developed a taste for coontie, mullet and alligator. Also, because the two of them picked up enough Mikasuki that I can’t get in trouble for yelling at my sister in languages the rest of the house doesn’t understand, but I also can’t yell at my sister in languages no-one else speaks. Which understandably sucks. Still, at least she’s back to calling me Honesty, instead of ‘Potpot’ (because apparently, my childhood nickname of Potpotchee is just too long.)

❧

    
Dorm life has been a bit of a challenge for me, and I’ll be the first to admit it. It’s not the density or anything like that, just the personalities of everyone around, free and slave. Also, that of the twenty slaves living in the building (out of maybe a hundred people total,) fifteen of them are female, and Margie and I are the only two slavegirls not named Morgiana. The guys have it easy. They’ve all got nice traditional names, like Sam.

Our male RA, Rupert is a be-dreadlocked black guy who alternates between not being around, aggressively not giving a fuck about being an RA, and showing off pictures of his slave girl’s infant daughter. I really do wonder what the hell is going on there, since he does talk about the baby more than his fiancé. Our female RA, Alice, is bubbly, but not quite all there, and so far has only really gotten around to assigning the Morgis (and Margie) nicknames. The only other authority figure usually around is Rupert’s fiancé’s slave, Jimmy (yes, it’s as annoying as it sounds.) The maid uniform and sundresses are a little weird, but once I get over that quirk, Jimmy is actually a pretty cool guy aside from him being distractingly attractive and a clean freak. He’s also the only one of the three with any real organizational ability.

My mistress and I share a two bedroom and a bathroom unit with a couple of more working-class students. They’re nice, but a bit slow, and teaching them how to do their laundry and clean is wearing on my patience. At least they have meal plans. Thank god they have meal plans. They’re usually quiet and keep to themselves unless they want to drag Becky out to a club or something, like stupid little TV dramas, and apparently aspire to be the sort of vapid people who work in sales and live in townhouses.

Next door to us are Lawrence the Stoner-bro, and Lawrence’s long suffering slave-girl Blonde Morgi. Blonde Morgi is nice enough, but really does hate her life, and the people in it, not that I could blame her at all. Lawrence is just kinda there, and smells perpetually like rancid pot, while constantly playing some video game or another. Usually a racing game or a first person shooter, which usually is enough to set off another attack. My mistress has said things to the RAs about the noise and it’s effect on me, but in the interim, I’m medicating much more heavily than usual, and sleeping with earplugs in.

Lawrence shares a bathroom with Helmut, from Austria. Helmut apparently decided to come to Florida thinking the entire state was like Boca Raton. He’s a lecherous, sad, fat little man, but seeing him get chased out of the building by a mob of twelve very angry men, and Thai Morgi’s equally outraged mistress, after proposing a “Morgi Orgy” was pretty funny. Otherwise, he usually hangs out with Lawrence, gets stoned and plays video games.

Other than that, I’m slowly learning other people’s names. Because I can’t help it. God I hate this place, and it’s absurd number of Morgis. I really just want to go home.


	2. Dorm life 2, Dating, and a day on the water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honesty writes a few more entries in her diary reflecting on various topics in her life, because she has much to complain about.

I ended up taking Little Morgi to the campus health center today. She apparently thought long and hard before deciding to ask me to go with her, apparently because I’m the one least likely to blab, while also being the most comforting (despite Black Morgi being the one with the toddler back home.) I’m not sure how that happened, since the rest of the girls seem to be convinced that I’m a bitch. I guess I’ll have to redouble my efforts, since it helped me avoid their bullshit politiciking, and I really didn’t want to be involved in things like this. But I guess it was okay this one time.

She was nervous when she asked me to come with her, and explained that it was because she missed her period for the first time ever. I don’t think I’d ever seen any of the girls look so scared either. But for other slavegirls, having children is a major source of anxiety. Especially living somewhere like a college dorm, where being allowed or forced to take a pregnancy to term usually means going home for a whole year, and thus risking losing your place as your master/mistress’ favorite while some Jezebel-come-lately steals his attention, or worse yet they fall in love with a free person. 

The entire time she was in the waiting room, I had to have my hand on her back calming her down. Fortunately, the staff were discreet and understanding, and they even let me come into the room with her. She asked if she had to watch the frog get injected, and the nurse laughed, before explaining how modern tests worked. Morgi was relieved when she heard that there wouldn’t be a day wait and a phone call.

The test was positive, and it turns out Little Morgi is around five weeks pregnant. She’s currently talking with Alice and Black Morgi, and they’re trying to figure out how to break it to Little Morgi’s master, while Rupert and Black Morgi’s master are trying to get him into a good place. I’m surprised at how well the RAs have come through, but apparently it happens often enough that they’re trained to deal with it.

I hope it turns out well for the two of them. I think I’ve actually come to like Little Morgi and her Master. He might be an entitled son of a bitch, and an airhead, but he’s at least hardworking and honest, while she’s at least diligent and a good actor.

❧

So a couple days ago my mistress started dating our RA’s future brother in law. He’s certainly caring, intelligent and very wealthy, but I do wonder what the hell she’s thinking getting involved with that family. And why really wealthy families are always so fucked up.

Becky’s Boyfriend is the youngest free child, only boy, and apparent least-favorite of five total children. Apparently this is good for getting a baby-obsessed Circassian girl for a birthday present, but not for getting your own condo, a car, or genuine expressions of affection from anyone but your mammy, (who also happens to be your mother’s half sister-slash-concubine because your family are freaks who aren’t subject to the Westermarck effect.) 

Given that his sister got everything listed save the Circassian girl, but got one of their half-sisters (admittedly the cripple,) and Jimmy the transvestite sex god instead, it’s pretty easy to see why he’s got an inferiority complex. Even despite that, he’s generally a pretty nice guy when he hasn’t fallen into a funk, and I don’t hate it when I have to sleep with him for my mistress’ entertainment. 

But when he’s fallen into a funk, he can be pretty mean when he does lash out. Maybe not enough to intentionally hurt someone with what he says (no, he keeps that back for himself,) but still. That said, he is pretty quick to calm down, although that might just be related to the three of us knowing how to distract him. 

I do hope some day he’ll sit there and realize how well he has it, with my Mistress hopefully liking him for more than his social status and money (after all, she’s already done enough social climbing for a lifetime,) and his slave girl just being head over heels for him, but I doubt that’ll ever happen. He seems to be the complaining type, just like Masters Aaron and Ira. I sincerely hope that isn’t why Becky likes him though.

Still, even if he is a brat, his family is still much better than my uncle’s family. They’re still mad at him about marrying a Maroon woman, and stopping that assassination attempt. Along with you know, joining the Constitutionalist party, ratting out his half-brother for his participation in that assassination attempt, and getting him jailed. Despite said half-brother trying to have him killed in the first place. Which is just wow, but that’s apparently Reform party politics down here for you. I’m glad I can’t vote, and that Becky’s fathers vote Labor, so we’re not on anyone’s radar.

I really hope my mistress continues to stay out of it, because while I fully expect that some day, I’ll have to explain a lot of difficult things to my hypothetical children, I don’t want to have to explain to them what death threats are, or why there’s a person on television saying really mean things about their father and his spouse. No child deserves to see that raw hatred, and I think that’s why my Mistress’ fathers have always tried to keep such a low profile. 

It’s probably the one thing I worry the most about with Becky’s current boyfriend, because I’ve seen what it does to people, and I don’t want it to happen to us. She's too nice a person for that, without any of the emotional scars and callouses needed to survive in such an environment and I don't want her to be hurt because of that idiot, and his toxic home life. 

Yet she seems deeply enthralled by him, and his little blonde girl, and she doesn’t seem to care at all if she gets hurt simply by being around him. Admittedly, she cares about if I’d get hurt, but this is counterbalanced by the fact that he’s her first boyfriend that I don’t hate. She’s already talking wedding plans and whether or not we should try to have children at the same time, so that they’d be guaranteed to have siblings and playmates. 

And I don’t know how to feel about that. Or about him. I guess that’s what worries me the most.

❧

I really hate boats. I think I hate boats more than I hate helicopters. I’m okay with cars and flying in planes, but I absolutely hate boats.

I only say this because My Mistress’ boyfriend invited her out on his sailboat. Or rather, his sailing team’s trimaran, because apparently they own a lot of boats. Of course, since she was coming, she decided to drag me along just in case she had an emergency. I really wish she hadn’t. 

Becky likes sports, and going fast and doesn’t mind the slamming that just happens when you’re sailing along in a boat the size of our dorm room at a good fifteen knots. I really, really don’t. Turns out I get motion sick pretty easily on a boat, and ended up being absolutely miserable the entire time as I curled up in the cockpit with a bottle of coconut water. 

So the two of them had a lot of fun, and apparently, her boyfriend knows how to cook enough that he made sandwiches himself. My expression of surprise at this, while tolerated was not appreciated. However, neptune spread with cheese and chips on toast is an unholy combination. The vegetarian dolmas his girl made were amazing though, and worth everything up to that point.

Our stop off at a spoil island was nice, even if mistress insisted on all of us skinny dipping (not like I had a choice, since she didn’t let me bring a bathing suit,) and then having sex on the beach. Which would have been fine if we had brought beach towels, but we hadn’t.


	3. Honesty and the Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Becky bought Honesty a new bathing suit, with a cool little feature. That's about when everything started to go wrong. Rebecca narrates for a change.

“Mistress, why did you think this outfit is a good idea?” Honesty said, as she stood in front of me, pulling down on the crotch of her new bathing suit in an attempt to get some relief.

“Because I thought it would look good on you.” I replied. “And I was right, you look gorgeous.”

And she did. When I’d found it online I thought it might be a bit much, but seeing the string halter top, with it’s red four-pointed star shapes on her breasts and the slingshot down to the thin band that led to the anal beads that held the bottom in place actually on her made the whole purchase worthwhile. Especially since I got to see everything when she squirmed, and the specific shade of red in the cloth sections complimented her dusky brown complexion wonderfully.

“I think I hate you.” Honesty said, “This thing is ridiculously uncomfortable.”

“How so?” I said as I leaned in to pull my adorable companion into a hug. 

Honesty gave me a pained look, trying to get what sympathy she can. “It’s way too tight. It’s digging into my labia and the crotch is yanking on my sphincter.”

“It’s supposed to be tight.” I replied. “How else is it going to stay in place?”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be this tight.”

“No, it definitely needs the tension” I said as I pulled one of the strings. It vibrated and Honesty made an odd noise from the sensation..

“Okay,” I continued, “It might be just a bit too tight. Take five while I try and figure out this thing.”

“Yes.” Honesty replied, as she placed a hand on her hip. “Anyway, I’ve got to pee, so I’m going to go take a leak.”

About a minute after I heard the door to my boyfriend’s bathroom close, and before I had a chance to open the instructions for the suit, I heard a smack and an ear piercing shriek from the bathroom.

“Son of a bitch!” Honesty screamed. “Mistress I need your help. The beads hit me in the face and I need something to wash my eyes out.”

“Mistress please?” Honesty said, as I started to look around for something I could use to help her.

“Becky,” Honesty sobbed, “could you just get me some wet wipes? I want to at least get the poop off my face.” 

“Please don't leave me alone in here.” She continued, “I’m scared.”

“Honesty, where could I get wet wipes?” I said, trying not to panic.

“I don't know!” Honesty shouted back through the door. “Ask Jimmy, he probably has some stashed somewhere.”

I ran out of the bedroom and into the hall, where I saw Jimmy standing there, holding laundry hamper. He sighed and spoke. “They're on the changing table in the nursery.” He said as he put the hamper down. “I’ll go get them.”

“Thank you.” I said to the ginger maid, as he turned and walked off.

I walked back into the bedroom and opened the door to the bath, intent on trying to calm Honesty down before a Jimmy got back with the wipes. 

I guess she’d had to take more than a leak, because there were a few quarter- and dime-sized globs of green stool in a rough arc on the floor, wall and ceiling, as well as a good sized smear on Honesty’s face. She had her eyes squeezed shut, and stood surprisingly still for someone on the verge of a panic attack, even as the plug itself smacked between her thighs.

“Well,” I said, as I held Honesty at arm’s length, “it's not as bad as I thought, but we probably shouldn't buy those blue corn chips again.”

“H…, how bad is it?” Honesty stuttered.

“Well, from what I can see, it's not in your hair and it's like apple green, so we definitely can't miss it.” I said, as Honesty whimpered in response. “Now bend over. I’m going to untie the suit while Jimmy gets the wipes.”

Honesty just crouched down so I could see what I was doing. As I brushed her hair up, she spoke. “Thank you Mistress.”

While untying the halter and back of her suit, I tried to calm Honesty down. “It's not so bad,” I said, “lots of people get poop on their face. I’m sure it happens to Jimmy a lot.”

The door opened and a voice responded, as I finished untying the suit, letting it fall to the floor.

“It doesn't happen to him that often, but when it does, I charge a lot for it.” Constance said, as she set a box of wet wipes on the counter. “Of course it usually isn't pistachio green either. What the hell did you eat?”

“Some convenience store guacamole and blue corn chips, Ma’am.” Honesty replied shakily, as I reached for a wipe. 

Constance laughed, and turned to leave the bathroom. “That’d do it.” She said, “Honesty, after you get most of it off, take a shower in the quarters and stay there, I’ve got Jimmy getting everything to clean it.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Honesty replied, as I went to work cleaning the splotch off her face.

“And Becky,” Constance said on the way out, “I’d like to have a word with you while she's in the shower.”

I swallowed in fear, and made an affirmative sounding noise.

“I’m really sorry about this,” I said tearfully as I continued wiping Honesty’s face. “I didn’t expect this to happen, I just thought that suit would look gorgeous on you.”

Honesty shrugged, even as she grabbed a wipe for herself, and started cleaning off her thighs. “It’s fine.” She replied, “Mistress, I’m used to all the little disasters. It's not like we haven't been doing this same pattern for years.”

I felt hurt, but at the same time, unsurprised. I’d always wanted her to be honest with me, but maybe not this honest. “So,” I said, playing up my sorrow, “You don't want something for an apology?”

“I never said that, but every time this happens, I hope it's a lesson learned, and with you, I’m not so sure that happens.” Honesty said as I finished wiping her face off, “What I’d like is if you actually did learn to control your impulses a bit better, and maybe stopped buying weird clothing online.”

“But if I don’t pick things out for you, you dress like my mother.” I replied as I tossed the wipe in the garbage. “Honestly, without my eye you wouldn’t pull off that Bitchpatra, Queen of All She Surveys look half as well.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” She countered.

“It’s undignified for both of us,” I said in a huff, as I crossed my arms, “and besides, I like that little ego boost of having the queen bitch wrapped around my finger and in my bed.”

“Is it really worth being covered in bright green poop or getting chewed out by your boyfriend’s sister because you got poop all over her bathroom though?” Honesty said, as she swapped out wipes.

“Touche.”


	4. Hannukah, Gifts, Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holiday Episode, which features Anne from Anne and Patience briefly.

So Hannukah came around again, and after finals were over, Becky decided to beg her parents to let her invite Steven (and Marie) over for the fifth night of Hannukah. Which was also shabbos. It’s an odd experience being asked your professional opinion of your owner’s boyfriend by her parents, and this being the third time around didn’t make it any less awkward. But they got a good impression of him, and decided they’d allow it. I might’ve fudged things a bit to get some extra help around the house, but I don’t really think it was necessary in the end.

After the candle lighting, and a couple rounds of dreidel in which Marie cleared both the young master, my sister, Mistress and Steven out, Marie and I finished putting out dinner (that I’d spent a good couple hours working on with Jasmine and Huppa.) Which just ended up being latkes, cheesy apple noodle kugel, and fried mullet gefilte, since it was a milchig night. Because it was Hannukah, and Becky had brought a boy home, we all ended up eating together, and I got to watch as all three of Becky’s parents got to grill Steven at the same time. 

After watching Steven almost break down crying from Masters Aaron and Ira, and Jasmine’s investigation, and getting in a bit of trouble myself for not telling Jasmine how her daughter had met Steven, the table was cleared, the dishes were done, and the free people retired to the living room, or den for their usual Shabbat activities. 

Of course with Steven around to work the remote, that also meant those fuckers started the movie without me, and I got exiled to the floor, along with Marie, while Steven took my spot on the couch curled up with mistress. Huppa was allowed on the couch because she’s Jasmine’s favorite, and Junior is a mama's boy. Marie was of course fine with sitting on a cushion like a dog, because Marie is fine with anything as long as she gets attention and something to cuddle with (in this case me.) Of course, my back started screaming by the end of the movie, because Marie just had to use me as a backrest while sprawled out on my lap, and pushed me into the front of the couch. 

At least those two have to sleep on the couch tonight (which almost feels like karma,) while Mistress and I have to sleep with Jasmine and Huppa to ensure that nothing untoward is going on. Jasmine is as annoyed by this as her daughter is, since she didn’t get to curl up with my sister and a nice book for each of them, like she usually does on the sabbath.

❧

Continuing onto the Holiday nonsense, someone actually read my wishlist for once this year, and thus far from Becky and her family, I’ve gotten new shoes that are kinda cute and fit pretty well (at one shoe a day,) a pair of compression shorts that are actually my size, yet aren’t obviously men’s shorts and two new sports bras. My aunt sent me a very nice bead crochet necklace, which I’m currently wearing. Becky also got clothes along with gift cards to the university book store. My sister seems really happy about the badass hunting knife and romance novels that Becky and I picked out, along with a book on snares my aunt sent her, already annotated.

Huppa’s fondness for consuming small furry animals aside, Masters Aaron and Ira got Junior a rifle for Hanukkah, since he’s apparently expressed interest in joining the rifle team at school. Jasmine is upset because she wants her little boy to be a doctor or a rebbe, and maybe not take so much after my aunt and uncle, who he’s been exposed to every summer for a couple months at a time. It’s probably a lost cause, but it’s for the best that Junior finds something to do other than play video games and masturbate. Little fucker managed to best Becky and I at Super Princess Horsey Horse Arena several times this week, and we’re both very sore about that.

I mentioned it to Becky earlier today, and we’ve decided on getting Marie a squeaky toy for Christmas. Admittedly it’s something of a mean gift, but she is oddly like a dog, and she thinks people like us are supposed to get an extra helping of meat and a cinnamon roll on Christmas and Epiphany. I mean she and her sister are still learning how to be people-people, instead of livestock, but it’s slow going at the strangest things. Of course, Janice seems happy that her daughter will know none of that, and I guess I can’t really judge either of them, because after six months in society, I still hadn’t got used to electricity and cooking indoors. 

Still, it's hard to think of that miniature (okay, compared to me,) blonde as being at least a year older than I am, when she's so small and often lost. She curls up with her head in my lap, asks questions about what I thought were really obvious things, enjoys chasing balls (mostly Steven’s,) and had a deep and abiding fear of trees. So we’ve decided she’s kinda like a dog, that you know, can actually help out around the house. She’s probably going to love it, and it’ll drive everyone else up the wall.

❧

We ended up doing Christmas Eve and Day at Steven’s parents’ mansion this year, which is in retrospect fairly odd, since no one here really celebrates too seriously, except for Rupert and to a degree Constance (who mostly seems to use it as an excuse to get drunk and sing in german.) I actually don’t think I’d seriously celebrated it before either, since even before Becky got me, I hadn’t been around people who treated it as much more than any other day. But Becky is enjoying it so much that we’re probably coming back for Epiphany.

Which is just great.

It’s not like they didn’t put me to work helping out with everything, because the youngest Cooley child (who has been a freewoman for all of five months now,) doesn’t turn into the spirit of bitchmas itself and make everyone in the house who isn’t a redhead cry because she’s a perfectionist in the kitchen. 

Except it is, and can.

Food’s really good though. Honestly, if Anne could just learn to calm the fuck down, and not demand that everything be perfect, I think I’d be okay to live here. They’re not what I’d want to marry into being all kinds of dysfunctional, but Becky fell in love with him and his maid, and that’s the end of it.

If she does marry him though, I’m going to have to set some ground rules. Waking up covered in people got old the first time around, particularly when one of them is a four year old with night terrors. I’m not sure if I should be proud or embarrassed about how both of our flashbacks combined managed to wake the entire house up. This place is really big (like “I have a couch and a coffee table in my bedroom just to take up space” big,) and the acoustics suck, so to get people running in from the master suite is really something. But still, when you’re sleeping with your girlfriend, her maid, and your maid, letting your little sister and the toddler that decided to latch on to her crawl into bed with you is probably not going to make anyone happy. Especially when your maid and girlfriend are currently not on the best terms because someone decided to secure her place in the household with a baby, and just dropped the bomb on everyone at dinner (I think Becky’s mostly just mad for show though, and is honestly hurt that Marie didn’t tell her beforehand.) 

The weirdest thing though is how small the bathrooms are. Giant ass house, and outside the bathroom in the quarters, and I haven't seen one bigger than eight feet by six feet, so they all have those stupid shower bidets. It’s weird when quarters are more civilized than the parts of a house for free people, and it’s even weirder to see when someone immeasurably well-off than you are won’t spring for a bathtub, never mind a heated toilet seat. 

Still, with all the awkwardness of the night and morning over with, and a toilet seat prewarmed by too many asses to think about, Christmas day happened with all the lack of festivity you’d expect from anglophone Columbians (of whom only Marie is devout, if extremely misinformed, and the rest range from heathens to existentialists.) Christmas dinner ended up being a turkey, stuffing, gravy, a roast with horseradish, squash, plantains, and a really nice seasonal salad. All for sixteen people (slaves included,) and served over five courses, or à la française in the quarters. 

Becky and I were sent home with several pounds of leftovers. I can’t be sure, but I think it’s Anne’s way of humblebragging, because that’s exactly how fucked up these people are.


	5. Cooking, Doctors, Illness, Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cooley family continues to be weird and Honesty doesn't know what a Burger is.

Having spent more time around Steven's family, I’ve found that the madness goes deeper than I thought. They're all nuts about food preparation. Sure they make wonderful food, but I’ve never seen Anne or Jimmy take a shortcut outside of using canned vegetables, a food processor or an immersion blender.

I can't begin to describe how weird that is with a household that size, even when they have a kitchen bigger than ours (quite a feat when you don't keep kosher.) 

Jasmine and I cheat almost constantly, down to buying premade muffin mix. We’ll buy premade pastry circles for kreplach, we usually don't make our own gefilte or matzoh either and things like that. Masters Aaron and Ira don’t seem to care or notice, but they basically don’t care as long as the house is clean, not on fire and there’s food on the table.

The Cooleys on the other hand? I’ve honestly seen Anne methodically disassemble a trio of whole chickens by hand to get all of the meat, fat and usable organs off of it, before using the rest of the carcasses to make chicken stock and forcemeat. Of course Ruby and Marie, who were fascinated by the whole process (and Marie disassembled a fourth chicken under Anne’s supervision,) then got some chicken nuggets made from some of the more oddly shaped bits as a snack. The arroz con pollo that night was delicious, as was the next day's soup and fried chicken.

This also goes beyond the amount of work put in. Jasmine only ever budgeted about ten dollars per person per day for eating at home. Anne on the other hand will dump enough saffron in things to keep me fed for a week, and I eat three dozen eggs and a couple pounds of meat every week by myself. Of course I can comfortably carry Rebecca into the bath or lift Marie or Janice over my head, so there is that.

But still, we’re both from households about the same size. Where the hell did Anne and Jimmy find the time for this shit? As it is, when my mistress and I are home, I’m usually running her and Junior around (because my mistress can’t drive stick) while Jasmine gets a break from that. Which is coincidentally, when the food gets that much better and when Jasmine takes fewer shortcuts and longer baths.

❧

So, I had to go with Marie and Grace to Steven’s mother’s hospital today because the good Doctor Cooley doesn’t trust the doctors by the university for some reason, and she wanted bloodwork from all three of us as well as ultrasounds for the two of them, and Rebecca decided she’d have me give it. Because when the endocrinologist wants blood, it’s probably not for some dark ritual or something (despite the various rumors about the Cooley family.) Not that it’s particularly likely that Marie or I were ever baptized.

Driving around for several hours with two pregnant women, one of whom is disabled and the other gets motion sick easily anyway, is not fun. Fortunately, we didn’t get stopped by the police despite getting to use Constance’s incredibly flashy car, and I didn’t have to show off our movement permits, but I still had to toss out two bags of vomit after we arrived.

Grace is used to this, and all of the Cooley children apparently had their hormone levels tracked since birth by Doctor Cooley, who has apparently been trying to nip some possible issues in the bud. Which is apparently why Constance is on a more intense medication and lifestyle regimen than Rebecca, and why I’ve literally never seen her eat bread or drink anything alcoholic outside wine and whiskey. I wish I could ‘sacrifice everything’ for my incredibly wealthy family by having to live off a diet of steaks, with the finest, freshest greens in my salads and single malt whiskey like Constance does, but I don’t.

That all said. Grace and Marie are doing fine, Marie is pregnant with Twins, and I should apparently lay off the creatine. It is awkward being sized up as a possible broodmare by the woman who might end up being the grandmother to your own children (because how else can I describe it, since it’s not like Rebecca would really let me have a man of my own.)

On a different note, Rebecca has decided to suggest that if she does marry Steven, she’ll probably give me to him as a pilegesh (because apparently just being someone’s mistress isn’t good enough unless we can put it in biblical terms.) Which is nice if it were legally enforceable status here, instead of me being basically only free in the home while Rebecca would still be the legal mother of the free children I’d inevitably have. I should’ve known she was weird about stuff when she was the only kid in our school who still ate paste. It’s still better than the IVF swap idea she had (the one where we’d carry each other’s children,) and I do wonder about her since she’s talking about babies more than Marie. 

Marie of course is over the moon about the idea of having twins, while Grace is terrified of having another pair of Kats around. I don’t really get that though. It’s not like Grace is going to have to change their diapers, and it’s not like Marie will just leave her children sleeping with people like Janice does with Kat. That said, Grace does seem to have a bald spot, so I guess it’s related.

Incidentally, Rebecca has started demanding that I stop calling her ‘my mistress’ in here, and just call her Rebecca instead. I can only worry about what she feels guilty about now, and how she’ll try to make it up to me. Some new headphones for the gym would be nice though.

❧

So Rebecca and I caught whatever has been going around the dorm. We’ve been having a fun few days while we can’t go over to the Condo, since there’s an infant and multiple pregnant women over there, and well, we’ve been living in a dorm. It’s nice just having it be the two of us even if Rebecca is a miserable snot monster, and the meal plan means I don’t have to cook anyway. Instead we’ve just been living on a diet of sopa de ajo, meatloaf and pizza for the last couple of days.

Either way, I’m going to keep this short, so I don’t accidentally sneeze on the page, and so I can go back to bed soon. It’s nice and warm and Rebecca isn’t as enthusiastic about everything as usual thank god, but is just as willing to cuddle. 

I’ve actually missed this, since the bed’s still warm but it isn’t nearly as cramped, I’m not woken up by someone climbing over me to puke in the middle of the night (since I sleep against the wall here) and if I have an attack, I haven’t spooked people who aren’t used to it, or woken up people I actually have to care about instead of Helmut. Fuck Helmut.

❧

So, now that we’ve been feeling better, Rebecca decided to try out a new fast food place that opened nearby on Helmut’s recommendation (a man that fat must know his junk food after all.) It serves some foreign thing as a specialty, it's like a beef patty on a roll with spices and toppings. It's usually served with fries on the side, and they’ve got what looked like a chili sauce to go on it, but was just kind of disappointing and too sweet for me. The sandwich itself was good, and it had a slice of cheese, a bunch of onion and tomato and some lettuce with an okay mustard and a lighter mayonnaise I really liked on it. I don't think it’ll really replace a gyro or a decent sandwich for me though.

Becky really likes them however and wants me to try making one when I can use the kitchen in the Condo. This will be fun.


	6. Clothes, Dorm Life 3, Where are they Now?, Babysitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Warnings: No explicit sex, bedwetting, Trigger warning for references to severe past sexual and physical abuse, and suicide.  
> Word Count: 1769  
> Word Count (Publisher): 2094

One of the things I am perpetually happy about is that I don’t have an assigned uniform and I can pick most of my wardrobe. Marie and Grace and Jimmy do and as much as the traditional Cooley maid uniform looks good around the house, having to go shopping with them is a very awkward experience since they don’t change out of it. I’ve only ever seen Jimmy in casual clothing once and that was still a nice sundress with a shawl. I honestly don’t think he has a single pair of pants. 

Janice doesn’t have a uniform either, and she enjoys parading around the condo in hot pants and a nursing bra or blouse to her sister’s annoyance. Of course she doesn’t really have control of her own wardrobe either, since after her master bought her some clothes, Constance threw out most of her underwear and bought more attractive lingerie as well as some blatant fetish gear. But Janice also doesn’t know any better and doesn’t go out in public that much so her two nursing tops are more than enough. She has tried to go out in a harness and shorts or completely naked though, so we do have to keep an eye on her.

By comparison, as long as it looks good enough on me, my mistress will let me get whatever I want. I think she picked that up from her mother who just dresses practically and lets Huppa wear whatever she wants as long as a skirt will hide her underwear (which is maybe not the best way for a woman who can’t say no to dress, but it’s not like what we wear is really a factor there.) As a result my part of the closet is actually pretty diverse for someone who maybe has a week’s worth of clothes, even if I have more booty shorts and backless panties than I’d like. Of course, Becky loves them because they make me easier to play with or to see my plug when I have it in, and the give her that ego boost of having me all dolled up and at her every beck and call (especially if she drags me out to chaperone a night out on the town,) but that’s just my life. 

The only really humiliating thing is the diaper cover I have, and that’s from Becky still not trusting me to not wet the bed when I haven’t done that in a couple of years. And even that was while I had a UTI, so it’s more like four years since I was a bedwetter. Of course, in her mind I could still relapse at any time, so we need to have a mattress protector (which is great on its own) and a set of diapers just in case. I think it’s just a fetish of hers and she doesn’t want to admit it as much as it being a control thing. Okay, maybe the strap-on harness is humiliating as well if I have to wear it out (even if it is a pretty comfy pair of briefs,) but I do get some satisfaction out of fucking her into an incoherent mess that will be walking funny for a few days if she’s been getting annoying. Of course Becky likes that, but I have to take my wins when I can get them. 

...Maybe I could convince her to let Steven have a go at it, after all it’s only fair he knows what pain we have to deal with.

❧

Redhead Morgi is a bitch. There, I said it.

Just because your owner is a rich kid with more money than sense who likes your whole fetish model look doesn’t give you the right to be shitty with everyone. Especially when you shirk the chores you agreed to at the start of the semester, leaving Black Morgi and a very pregnant Little Morgi to pick up the slack. This isn’t even unusual. We’ve all complained to Redhead Morgi’s master, but he doesn’t give a shit and won’t do anything about it.

I get that life is that much easier when you’re basically a human sex toy, and I know that’s why she does what she does, but it doesn’t excuse it. She does the same sorts of shit Marie does, just more cynically. The whole fawning over her owner, acting all chipper and happy to see him and flattering in the most transparently patronizing way possible is pretty annoying to see it from the outside. Especially when she can’t be bothered to help out, and her owner is hot and the well-meaning kinda stupid I’d wish Becky would’ve gone after more in high school.

She’s like the anti-Marie now that I think about it. I bet she doesn’t even cuddle up to him as much as a boy like that needs. Not that she’s big enough to do it. She’s a tiny little thing, maybe four foot ten and ninety pounds, while her owner is like a head taller than her. They’re both in my strike zone, even if Marie is cuddlier and has a much nicer personality and Steven is almost worth sharing.

Even though I don’t really like the idea of wishing harm on someone, I do wish Redhead Morgi’s owner would wise up to her shit and sell her to Helmut or something. Unless that’d lead to Morgi getting emancipated when he goes back to Europe, because fuck that girl.

❧

So Becky and I did some digging on our classmates from our first school now that we’re starting to come up on nine years since her emancipation, and while Becky is obviously the best off it’s a bit interesting from there. It’s surprising what you can find from just public school and tax records really. I had my reservations about doing it because I didn’t think it would do her any good to know how bad things were for our classmates, she insisted.

While we went to Florida Preparatory school No. 32, we had fifteen other classmates, three boys and twelve girls, with us until Becky was emancipated and I was pulled out of it to be her nurse. 

Of the boys: Miguel is currently owned by a household and listed as being a groundskeeper, Camille is a private in the coastal artillery stationed at Cayo Hueso, and Andy was sold outside the state, so I have no idea what happened to him. 

The girls are harder to cover, but the overwhelming majority were listed as being housekeepers, cooks or nannies, four of whom are parents while Morgiana has also given birth to two children as a surrogate for her mistress. Of the three who aren’t, Carol died of an overdose after being sold (a fairly standard suicide method, and reading her autopsy report was enough to make me vomit,) Amy is owned by a resort in Boca Raton (either as a maid or a prostitute,) and Zita is a private in a helicopter maintenance unit. 

Needless to say, Becky was more surprised by it than I was. That a good quarter of our classmates have kids was probably the hardest part. Not because it means we’re old or anything, but because that was almost us. As much as Becky wants a herd of small children and enjoys playing with Kat and Ruby, she doesn’t want them immediately. She’s probably finally also thought through what she did to me and still does, and I had to reassure her. She’s never been violent towards me, and neither have any of her boyfriends, but I doubt any of our classmates owners were particularly physical either (except for Carol,) because you don’t have to be when you hold absolute power over someone.

Actually thinking about it, the only times I ever see a slave say no is when it involves children, food or, someone who doesn’t hold power over them. Kelly is one of the few I’ve seen who will just say that she doesn’t want to do something, but she’s also in a very privileged place socially and can pass the scut work off to Gem. Maybe I’ll be there someday, hopefully before I’ve had five kids and lost my abs.

❧

While my mistress and her boyfriend are off doing socialite things up north, I’ve been staying at his house with Marie. Gem had cataract surgery so someone needed to help Kelly out around the house and take care of Ruby for a few days. Since Ruby is afraid of blondes and Kelly, I ended up being the one to watch her while Marie did housework and Gem had to rest. After all, the girl with PTSD should know how to handle a child with the same general problem, right?

Gem is staying up in the master suite because it’s easier for her to get around up there, and because Dr. Cooley wants to keep an eye on her. Which means while Ruby can play with her mother during the day, she has to sleep with us because there isn’t a mattress protector up there, and Dr. Cooley doesn’t like dealing with nightmares in stereo. Needless to say, my opinion of Anne has improved a bit since the week started, and I’ve had to change the sheets twice despite everything. Marie already slept nude normally so she’s been fine, but I’ve given up on wearing anything to bed while I’m here. 

It’s trying my patience, and I’ve already had to bite my tongue to keep from saying anything to her I shouldn’t. She’s effectively mute and as much as she’s able to sign I can’t understand her, so everything is a lot harder and just raising my voice in her general direction is enough to set her off. At least she’s easy to feed, and will just go for like leftovers or unflavored yogurt for a snack. 

On the upside, despite being a human firehose and the nightmares, Ruby is actually a fairly decent bedmate. She’s not particularly grabby like Becky, and she doesn’t try to latch on to my breast like Marie does. We just have to be careful about not smothering her, but that’s not too hard. About the hardest part is reminding Marie there’s a child in bed with us, so she can’t get too handsy. It’s the closest I’ve gotten to getting the idea that I’m not really attracted to women and don’t want to fuck all the time through her ravenous little mind. 

I really just want to go home now. Fifty bucks and all the food I can eat isn’t worth this.


	7. The Anniversary, Pesach, Huppa's choice of Beau

So, while Becky was gone, one day I went up to visit my aunt with my sister while leaving Marie at home to watch Ruby. We do it every year on the anniversary, and this marks thirteen years since my mother and our people died outside the three of us. We went out to the site like we usually do. It’s pretty overgrown now, and the only real sign there was ever a village here is how young all the trees are, and the granite marker my aunt installed. This year, the governor sent a wreath to be placed as well, which was the first time someone had done that since the tenth anniversary. 

Every year, I tell my mother how I’ve been doing, as we clean the marker. My aunt mostly still cries as she works. My sister, being too young to remember our mother or being free, isn’t emotional at all, but picked up the habit of talking to our mother as a child. It pains me to say it, but she’s more Jasmine’s daughter than our mother’s, but Jasmine did raise both of us along with her own children and certainly loves Huppa unconditionally. Jasmine likes her enough that she calls Huppa by the nickname she had before our capture, instead of her legal name of Integrity Brown. Jasmine is a bit more hesitant with me, but considering how I was much older, and I once blew up at Huppa for calling her mom when Huppa was six, I can see why.

I’ve never asked Huppa about it, since it’s awkward enough for me not really remembering how my mother looked or smelled like, but she wasn’t even old enough to remember our mother at all. Ironically she looks more like our mother than I do according to our aunt (it’s the lack of muscle apparently, since Huppa is a lot more wiry than I am.) Maybe I will someday. After all, she shouldn’t feel pressured to come, for the same reasons our cousins don’t tag along. 

There’s been talk of developing the site of the village into a tourist spot, which Becky supports and I don’t know how I feel about. It’d get people to come out and see the sober memorial we’ve put in and would have park service staff coming by to maintain it, but I don’t think I want to risk reopening this wound. 

❧

I don’t think there is another holiday that makes me as uncomfortable as Pesach. For all the talk of leaving Egypt and freedom, I’m still a slave at the end of it. As is Jasmine and my sister. While I don’t think Jasmine particularly cares since both of her children are free and she might as well be a housewife, I still have to serve my mistress in ways I don’t want. I get that I can’t really function on my own that well, but I’d still appreciate the freedom Becky has. Even just the ability to find my own lover would be nice. Huppa feels the same way, but she long ago converted and probably just wants to be an equal at the table every night. We also tossed in Junior’s birthday, and did it on shabbat because that was the only time we could make it work.

Pesach Seder is one of the few meals of the year we all eat at the table as equals in our suffering through the Seder. It was interesting to see it throw Marie through a loop. Steven dealt with it better, but not by much. Especially since they had made the mistake of showing up hungry. While I had the unenviable job of keeping Marie and Huppa from sneaking any actual wine, they didn’t really try anything. Unlike Steven, who Becky actually slapped on the back of the hand a couple of times when he tried to eat something in the two hours before we finally reached the Motzi. Marie was given a pass because she was pregnant and made those goddamned eyes, so Jasmine gave her some hardboiled eggs to nosh on. Needless to say, both of them learned a valuable lesson, and we’re not doing a full length seder again for a few years. Especially not when everyone downs an entire glass of wine for the kiddush like it’s Purim. 

That said, both of them enjoyed the kneydlach I made, with schmaltz in the kneydl mix instead of oil and a capon for the meat and broth of the soup (working from a whole live capon because I foolishly thought it couldn’t be that bad,) as did everyone else. Otherwise we had the usuals: the seder plate, potato kugel, a leg of lamb, salad, and gefilte fish. I think Marie ate a cup of charoses and two pieces of gefilte fish by herself, which was impressive. 

Awkward chicken murder aside it was a pretty good day, even if my sister was making fun of how much I freaked out about killing that poor bird. Steven and Marie were allowed to sleep in our room. Everyone was too full to think about sex, so we thankfully just went to sleep. 

❧

So Marie caught Junior and Huppa making out on the couch last night. It’s awkward for all of us, since it is kinda incestuous. Like, they’ve been raised together since they were three and four respectively, and shared a bed for three years before Junior had to sleep in his own room instead of with his mother (which actually meant he snuck into bed with Becky and myself for a good six months until she started locking the door.) Needless to say, for a pair of fourteen year olds it is concerning. 

Jasmine and I interrogated them, and it was a mess. Turns out we all missed the bit where my sister had a crush on Junior, and having seen that I have a sexual relationship with Becky, decided to give Junior a birthday present of some heavy petting since they’re both fairly devout even if they do hunt. Junior was just kinda happy that he got to touch a real breast. But long story short, Huppa wants to get married to a nice Rabbi or Cantor someday (and you know be emancipated,) and have kids and all that. Only problem is, the only boy at shul who will give her the time of day is Junior. Which is probably also good for her, since Junior isn’t exactly the sort of boy the girls at shul like. So she did the math, and by accident or intention Masters Aaron and Asa have avoided Yichud with both of us so combined with the fact that we weren’t adopted by them but bought, she could in fact indulge her crush and get married (never mind that Jasmine did pretty much adopt us, but all these laws are really sexist, and only really care about the paternal side of things.) 

Huppa also declared that she is actually saving herself for marriage with all the zeal you’d expect from a convert, so I don’t think she’s planning on letting Junior do anything before he is accepted to a yeshiva or college. Junior for his part is still on cloud nine because of the boob thing, but I’m willing to bet that they’ll be sexually active within the year. I’m driving Huppa to our gynecologist to get an IUD tomorrow after Steven and Marie go home just to be safe. After all, four children is expensive enough even when they aren’t all free, and a mamzer would be bad, even if our Aunt would take it no questions asked. 

I want to be there when Aaron, Asa and Jasmine give Junior the talk though. Especially because while Jasmine does want grandchildren, she’s been pretty vocal about wanting her boy to be on his way to being a Rebbe first. Of course, given how Huppa studies with Junior in her off time, she might be a better candidate for that (but who ever heard of a female Rabbi!)


End file.
